Muggle Studies
by Marceline Spinellifan
Summary: Victoire Weasley has married a Muggle. His name is Ralph. If readers feel that the name Ralph is horrifying, revolting, and needs to be changed, I will go through the process of changing it. I might change it anyway. Ralph doesn't know that Victoire is a witch, but hiding her identity from her husband is killing her.
1. Chapter 1

Muggle Studies

Chapter One

Victoire Green picked up her umbrella, feeling a tingle of magic through the slippery fabric. It was a small tingle, but still enough to wake up her skin and make her start itching to cast spells. She sighed longingly. "Ralph will be home any minute now," she told herself firmly. The empty house echoed back at her mockingly.

It was unnatural, this quiet. At her parents' house, you could always hear the surf rocking, the cry of gulls, the singing morning glories in her mother's garden. At her grandparents' house where Victoire had spent many blissful days, it was never quiet. Almost never. The ghoul clanked pipes in the attic, some cousin or aunt or uncle burst in the door at unexpected times, people shouted up the stairs to each other, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron were having a lazy debate, a noisy Quidditch match was taking place on the lawn. And Hogwarts was certainy never calm. Except for the common room at night, or the Great Hall during a written OWL.

But here, this carpeted house seemed to swallow every sound. Her job in the dreary Muggle city was never stimulating enough. The frustration of not being able to use magic at work grated on the young witch constantly.

The umbrella twitched. She raised it awkwardly. It restricted her wand movements, and it was heavy and annoying. But she couldn't risk Ralph seeing what the umbrella held. He could never see. Never. He could never even wonder. But it was so tempting. Victoire bargained with herself. She would just toy with the bowl of salt on the table... She had the incantation in her head, was about to make the salt rise in a spinning funnel, when there was a scratching, a worrying at the keyhole.

Victoire froze. Ralph was home already. She thought quickly, diving towards the umbrella stand and stuffing her wand into it. The door swung open, and she tried to look normal. Normal, what an ugly word. Normal stung her fingers and chafed her spirit. But normal had given her Ralph. Normal had let her keep Ralph.

Ralph was turning to take off his coat. Victoire fumbled for her normal greeting.

"Hi honey," she said. Ralph's innocent brown eyes found hers, maybe noticing the desperation in them. Perhaps not.

"Hi, love. How was work?" he asked, with a note of concern in his voice.

"Oh, it was alright. Normal."

Ralph gathered her into an embrace, and Victoire relaxed against him. He might not have a clue about who or what she was, but he was still so attractive.


	2. Chapter 2

Muggle Studies

Chapter Two

Victoire's predictable life in the Wizarding World had changed course forever one winter evening at a party given by her Aunt Hermione. Sometimes Victoire's brilliant Muggle-born aunt would take a couple of days with her parents, lapse back into the Muggle world where she had spent her childhood. And Aunt Hermione would throw a party for her old friends.

Muggles had always been something of a fascination to Victoire, living as she did in a constant whirl of magic. She begged her Aunt to let her attend and see what Muggles were really like. Hermione had consented.

Victoire was really an exceptionally beautiful young witch. Her Veela blood made her irresistible to boys and men. Her Hogwarts years had been speckled with lovestruck boys who followed her around in a haze of infatuation.

At this muggle party Victoire was introduced as Hermione's niece, which was true, certainly. She had been instructed to try and look a little bit less beautiful than usual. If asked, she was from Kent. She had gone to an obscure boarding school in the wilds of Scotland. Her parents were allergists.

A herd of mesmerized children immediately surrounded her. She played with them, mystified by how similar they were to her own cousins. As she sat on the burgundy-colored rug, holding a three-year-old on her lap as she did shadow puppets for some little girls in the warm lamplight, she noticed a slender young man leaning on the edge of the fireplace. He seemed to be about her own age, twenty-five at most. He had dark skin and a careless posture, confident but not too confident. There was a touch of arrogance in the way he pushed his black hair out of his eyes.

Victoire was intrigued. every so often, his eyes flicked in her direction. She sat up a little straighter, forming endless shapes with her hands. A duck. A cat. An  
elephant.

There was a little girl in the group who looked a bit like the guy. Her name was Alaska. What a strange name, thought Victoire. The man drew her attention more and more, until she couldn't think straight anymore. Eventually, she extracted herself from the pool of kids, saying she had to use the bathroom.

The bathroom seemed to jerk her back to her senses. It was a cool blue and white place, spotlessly clean. The bright lights around the mirror illuminated her nearly perfect face. She leaned forward, checking her nose or hints of shininess, her hair for straying strands. There were none.

As she performed this check, not really seeing her reflection, she wondered what was wrong with her. She was rattled, her normally collected demeanor shaken and jarred. She focused on her face. She looked frightened. Confused. The image of the man by the fireplace swam before her. She wanted to go back there, to see him more.

She shook her head. "Snap out of it!" she told herself fiercely. She was a witch, she reminded herself. Fooling around with random muggles was asking for trouble. It wasn't illegal, certainly, but it was a terrible idea. Merlin, what was she thinking? She hadn't even spoken to the muggle man. She didn't even know his name. There was definitely something wrong with her.

She had been in the bathroom for only a couple of minutes, but it seemed like ages. She turned around in the cramped space. She opened the door.

She stepped outside and started walking down the hall, only to crash into somebody. Somebody tall and solid and male. She jumped back immediately and saw that it was the guy. She really needed to know his name.

"Sorry for walking into you!" She was relieved to see he wasn't angry. "I guess I was just having a moment or something...I'm Victoire." She held out her hand.

"Ralph," he offered, shaking her hand firmly and possibly holding on a little longer than necessary. Maybe muggle handshakes were different. "It's just as much my fault as yours, really. I apologize."

The hall sconce threw his handsome face into sharp relief. "I don't think I've ever seen you before," he said curiously.

"Oh, no, I don't think you have-I'm from Kent, you see. Hermione's my aunt. I've come to visit her for the weekend."

"Oh, that's great, that is. Hermione and my mum go way back. Although it got a bit difficult for them to see each other when Hermione started going to that school. D'you know what it's called?"

"Er, Hogwarts?" said Victoire before she could stop herself. "I mean, that's what I think I heard Auntie say-a while ago-ages ,really-" she struggled to cover up her mistake, looking at the flower-patterned carpet.

Ralph smiled. "Hogwarts? Funny sort of name, eh?"

"Oh, very." Victoire was relieved. He didn't suspect anything. She looked back up at him. They really were standing quite close together.

"So where do you live? No, wait you already told me. I'm not used to being around stunning beautiful girls, so pardon me if I'm not the brightest."

Victoire's eyes widened. Being called beautiful was nothing new. But Ralph certainly was. He was certainly new, alright. She blinked. "Thanks. Ah-who's your mum?"

"My mum? Oh, she's the one in the green dress. Sort of gray hair..."

"Are your parents here?"

"No, they're back home in Kent."

"I see."

"Victoire?" She flinched a little at the muggle using her name so quickly, so familiarly. She had always been something of a weakling when it came to guys saying her name. "Do you come to see your aunt often?"

"Um, not that often," Victoire answered, a little breathlessly.

"Oh." Ralph seemed disappointed. Then he brightened a little. "What's your number?"

"My number?" Victoire repeated, mystified.

"Your phone number?"

Damn. Luckily, she remembered what a phone was from her somewhat boring year of muggle studies at Hogwarts.

"Telephone?" She clarified, stalling.

"Yes." Ralph looked amused. He thought she was making a joke. Good. Victoire breathed shallowly. She melted into the guy's coffee-dark skin, trying to think clearly and quickly.

"You know what? I've just got a new one and I haven't memorized it just yet. I'll-I'l go and get it."

Victoire moved quickly darting down the hall and into the brightly lit room beyond. She looked back once, and saw Ralph leaning against the wall where she had left him, a perplexed and happy smile on his face.

Victoire hurried through the party, looking for Hermione. She burst into the little room where Hermione was standing with a couple of other women. "Auntie? Can I talk to you for a second?" Hermione turned to her friends and apologized for the interruption. Victoire prickled with impatience.

Her aunt looked curious. Victoire was not usually one to burst in on conversations at unexpected moments.

"It's a muggle thing..."

"What, dear?"

"Ah, I need a telephone number to give somebody and I don't know what-"

"Hm. I'll see what I can do. The code for Kent would be...let's see, 54?

"Okay."

"It'll be fine, honey, don't worry. How about, hmm...54.32.76? That should do, it's impossible for muggles to already have it, I'll just have to talk to your parents about this-" Hermione grabbed a piece of paper from a spindly table nearby and scribbled on it "54.32.76" She handed it to Victoire, who hugged her.

"Thanks Auntie Hermione! You saved me!" Then she turned and positively skipped back to the hallway.

Ralph was still there, thankfully, he seemed to be wandering through a reverie and didn't notice her approach. She walked up to him and said quietly "I've got it, sorry it took so long-"

"It's fine. don't worry, Victoire, It was well worth a couple minutes' wait." There it was again, her name, so fluid in his mouth. She wasn't sure how to respond. She had never really had much experience at flirting.

"Er, I hope so," she said confusedly. No, wait, that wasn't right. "I mean, I doubt it."Not quite, but almost.

"Ralphie, where are you?" came a querulous old woman's voice down the dim hallway. "It's time to go!"

"Damn." Ralph frowned. He ran an anxious hand through his silky-looking hair.

"Mum want to go home, I guess..." he seemed a little flustered.

"Listen, it was nice meeting you-" began Victoire.

"Exceptionally nice." Ralph seized her hand. The pressure of his strong brown fingers was a bit startling.

"I'd like to see you again-" Victoire winced at the odd formality in her tone.

"Yes."

Ralph locked eyes with her, and he seemed about to say something else, when his mother's voice came again "Ralph! Where are you?" Suddenly, a woman appeared in the door. "It's really time to leave. We've got to get you back to university-" She froze at the sight of her son standing with the striking young witch, grasping her hand. Ralph dropped Victoire's hand, but she could still feel his touch on her skin.

"Coming, mum," he replied. To Victoire, he added "I'll give you a ring-"

"Bye, Ralph."

"Bye Victoire-"  
And with a final look over his shoulder, Ralph walked away.

Victoire stood, somewhat stunned, under the light. Her little field observation in Muggle Studies was turning out to be very interesting indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Muggle Studies

Chapter Three

And that was how Victoire had come to be married to a muggle. An extremely intelligent, handsome, funny muggle. But a muggle nonetheless. Her family had been puzzled, Teddy Lupin  
had been somewhat disappointed, there had always existed in the most honest crevices of his mind the possibility of his getting married to his beautiful cousin. As a matter of fact, a lot of people had long cherished the idea of Teddy and Victoire marrying. They had even gone out for a while in her seventh year at Hogwarts. Dating Teddy had been nice, and comforting, and good. But she longed for a little more intrigue, a touch of adventure that her cousin never really had for her. But it occurred to nobody that Victoire would find it in a muggle.

* * *  
Victoire reached up for a kiss, and as they pulled back, she reassured him "I'm fine. Just a bit worn out, is all."

"Oh, don't you have a vacation coming up from the office?"

"Well, not really, there is that long weekend, though. I think I might go visit mum and dad, actually."

"Want me to come with you?" Ralph and Victoire sat down at the kitchen table. The bowl of salt sat untouched an unruffled by magic.

"Oh, honey, that would be great.." Oops, thought Victoire. Why had she mentioned her family? They had been produced for the wedding, in muggle clothes which made them look exceptionally weird to Victoire. There had been a couple of odd moments, gaps in conversation where wizard and muggle didn't quite meet, but Ralph's family merely thought the Weasleys were a bit odd.

"I'll ring tomorrow and see what they've got going on that weekend," she said cautiously.

The next day, after Ralph had left for work and Victoire had yet to leave, she stood in the middle of their bedroom, then turned on the spot, and with a loud crack, she felt herself being compressed as though in a thin tube. Even the sensation of Apparition was welcome, although it was unpleasant. It was magical, and that was all that mattered.

Victoire opened her eyes to find herself on a windy bluff covered with wildflowers. About a hundred yards away she could see the house where she had grown up. Shell Cottage. It had gotten a bit worn and weatherbeaten over the years, but it was still quaint and square and comforting. It was home.

She walked towards the house, her muggle clothes suddenly foreign and uncomfortable around her body.

As she approached, the green door flew open, and Victoire's mother came running out. They hugged, and Victoire felt a surge of emotion and the sudden esire to cry. But she couldn't cry now. She had chosen to live a muggle life with the man she loved, and she couldn't back down now. She had made the right choice, she was convinced.

She had definitely made the right choice. But it was just so hard. Merlin, it was hard.

"Victoire! Ma petit chou! Comment ca va?"

"oh. Maman!" Victoire wanted to go inside and tell her mother everything, but it just wasn't possible. "I've got to be back in ten minutes," she said in French. "I've got to go to work."

"Oh, my little girl! You look so tired, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, mum. Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure." he sun was so warm, nothing was happening here. Nothing at all, really. How easy would it be to just stay here, to never go back-"Mum, have you got anything going on about two weekends from now?"

"Oh, Victoire, I'm afraid we do...Harry and Ginny are coming, and so are their kids, Ron and Hermione are staying for a few days with Hugo and Rose-did you want to come?"

Victoire frantically did math in her head. There was no possible way she and Ralph would fit in Shell Cottage with that lot.

"It's alright, I was just thinking of coming for the weekend-I've got a bit of a holiday-we'll come some other time. Don't worry about it, mum.

"Okay..." Fleur still looked concerned. "How is March for a visit?"

"Oh, it's great!" Victoire did her best to smile. "I should be going now. Nice seeing you mum. I miss you."

"I miss you too, cherie."

"Bye mum."

"Goodbye Victoire." They hugged once more, and then Victoire Apparated back to her bedroom. Back to the muggle world. Back to the dreary darkness of a London suburb in February. Back to where Ralph was.

It took her a second to realize that she wouldn't be seeing her family any time too soon, and she would get no escape. Her eyes stung a little. For the two-hundredth time Victoire wondered if marrying Ralph without telling him she was a witch had been altogether a good idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Muggle Studies

Chapter Four

Victoire woke in the middle of the night, to moonlight streaming through her bedroom window. It was mercilessly bright. She lay awake, miserably. She turned over, trying to shield her eyes from the moon. She turned back over, to face Ralph. He was lying on his side, dark eyelashes frozen against his cheeks, forehead smooth and unworried. Victoire sank into the insomniac's loneliness with only a little tug of protest. She considered waking Ralph up so that she wouldn't be so terribly alone, but she didn't have the heart. And she knew she couldn't tell him what was on her mind.

She stared at his beautiful face in the moonlight, every rise and fall of his chest tormenting her, each peaceful second that passed seeming like a thousand years. She longed to shake her husband awake, force him into lucidity. It would be so easy-

Victoire had reached out an arm to touch him when she stopped herself. Ralph had married a witch. He didn't need to be woken up in the middle of the night like this. Instead she reclind in Ariadne's pose, one arm supporting her heavy head. She lay and stared at Ralph, loving him fiercely and wanting only to keep him forever.


	5. Chapter 5

Muggle Studies

Chapter Five

Ralph and Victoire were eating dinner in their kitchen on a warm March evening. A soft, obliging wind blew throught the open window, and a couple of lightning bugs were visible on Ralph's houseplants that their apartment's balcony was convered with. Muggle plants bored Victoire to tears, but she could understand their appeal to Ralph. They were quite pretty, she had to acknowledge, but the dark pansies and purple phlox never really compared to the excitement of a Venemous Tentacula, or the searing beauty of a Siren Bush.

Victoire barely tasted the fancy pumpkin ravioli that was usually her favorite food. Ralph brushed a hand across his forehead. They talked about the visit to Victoire's parents, the people upstairs who were constantly in action on some project or other, the concerning rise in national dropout rates. Ralph taught English in a calm little town where everyone seemed to be on the verge of dropping off to sleep-sometimes during Ralph's classes.

Ralph soon waxed reminiscent. "Remember the night we met, at that party full of old biddies and little kids?"

"They were hardly old biddies," protested Victoire. "And my Aunt Hermione might as well be thirty-five for all a person would know."

"Anyway, that's beside the point," Ralph continued. "The second I saw you, I felt this change come over me, like I'd been put under a spell...Victoire, what's the matter?"

"Just bit my tongue, don't worry," Victoire assured him, trying to cover up the involuntary twist of the lips that the word "spell" had caused. She had to be free of this, she had to be able to do magic, she couldn't go on living like an ordinary Muggle woman. It was unnatural!

Ralph went on, jovially, "And when I asked for your number!" He smiled happily. Victoire didn't know how she could bring herself to break that blissful ignorance. "You would have thought you'd never had somebody ask that before. I remember..."

"Oh, Ralph, I was just surprised that someone as, well, hot, as you would want to call me."

"Are you kidding? You're so beautiful, you must have had your pick of boys all the way through university!"

"Well, I guess so...but none of them were like you. Really I only went out with a couple of them."

"Guess I just got lucky, then..."  
Ralph looked out the window, as Victoire toyed with her fork.

"Ralph! Really! Of course not, how could you have gotten lucky? I could never have, well...

"This ravioli is so good! You know I'd never had it before I met you?"

"Oh, yeah, you told me that, I think."

"Did I? Guess I'm getting old..."

"Oh, definitely. You'll have to trade those sexy hipster glasses for horn-rimmed bifocals like my uncle Percy,"  
Victoire teased.

"Hey!" Ralph was scowling in mock offense.

"I can see your hair turning white! Just look at it! Every day...honey, I didn't want to say anything..." The two of them burst out laughing. Ralph's eyes crinkled warmly, and Victoire felt the horrible loneliness of the situation. She didn't want to ruin the moment, but she couldn't stand keeping this from him.

He would think she was insane, he would scream and run and talk about the devil and evil spirits. Or worse, he would think she was just crackers, and try to get psychiatric help for her. Or he'd think she was playing a trick. But she couldn't take this tension, this holding back. They were newlyweds (well, about six months) and if she was already keeping a huge secret like this from her husband, who knew what would come next. Although, if she told Ralph the truth, would she even have a marriage anymore?

"Victoire, honey, are you okay?" Ralph didn't realize that his immediate future was being decided.

"Oh, I'm fine! Don't worry, cutie."

"You seem really thoughtful lately...uh, you can tell me."

"No! There's nothing wrong!" Victoire punctuated this assertion with a laugh that sounded weird even to herself. "There's nothing wrong."

"Okay." Ralph was too smart to believe that for long. Victoire had to make sure she was super-vigilant and didn't let her worry show through. She leaned forward a little, snuggling with Ralph through the eyes, trying to reassure him that everything was fine.

They did the dishes companionably, washing, rinsing, and stacking with admirable speed. They always tried not to spend too much time on household jobs. For muggles, that is. Victoire could have had everything done with a single wave of her wand. This left more time for other, more pleasurable things. As Victoire finished drying the second-to-last plate, which had dark blue flowers around the edge, a cold breeze swept the kitchen. The curtains fluttered. Ralph jerked his hands out of the dishwater and rushed to close the window.

Victoire drank in the details, the graceful way he walked, the muscles that flexed in his arms with the effort of pushing down the sticky window.  
She tried to seal in her memory the short hair on the back of his neck, the soft look in his eyes as he turned back around to her.

She held the plate to her chest as if for comfort, the water on it chilled by the wind. "Ralph?" She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them resolutely.

"Victoire?" He was so sympathetic, so ready to listen to whatever she had to say. Soap still dripped from his fingers.

"I've got to tell you something."

"Okay. Er, what is it?"

Victoire winced. "The fact is-I-er-well-"

"Oh honey! Ralph stepped forward, taking the plate out of her hands, setting it on the countertop, and enclosed her in his arms. "I'm so glad!"

"Ralph-" he hugged her tighter, then bent his head a little-Victoire was tall-and gently kissed her. She kissed him back, her eyes starting to fill with tears as she wondered what on earth Ralph thought she had meant to tell him.

"Victoire" he had to stop saying her name. It never stopped having the same power over her it had that night at her aunt's house. "Are you completely sure?"

"No, I-"

"Oh my God. I just can't believe this. My wife is pregnant! Honey, why are you crying?"

"I just-"

"I know, it's emotional." He was still holding her waist, she didn't know how she would make herself pull away and tell him the truth. She melted against him one last time, and then stepped back. He was surprised, but let her go easily enough.

"I'm not pregnant." The words were stone in her mouth.

"Oh." Ralph sounded disappointed. The space between them was an abyss. "Then what?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm not pregnant," she said again. "Ralph, can we sit down?"

"Ah-okay." Victoire tried to smooth the tears out of her eyes.

They sat down at the little table, on opposite sides. "Okay. Okay." Victoire steadied herself. "I just want you to know that I love you, and nothing I'm about to say will ever change that." Ralph had a strange expression on his face, somewhere between terror and pain. "Also" she went on "you don't have to stay with me."

Ralph cut in "Victoire-I'll stay with you, no matter what-what can you possibly-"

"This is nothing you can imagine. Okay, this is it. There are two separate worlds on Earth. One is your world-the muggle world."  
Ralph was looking confused and almost skeptical. Victoire pressed her lips together and continued. "The other world is a world of, well, people who can do magic. Wizards. And witches. They're born with the power to do things-"

"Victoire, this is a joke, right? I mean, it's made up, it isn't real..." He ran a hand through his hair, wildly trying to fight the panic.

"No, I'm afraid not. Listen-I need you to listen. I'm a witch. I can cast spells. I can make things fly."

"Oh, Victoire! Who the hell are you, anyway?" Ralph was looking at her with the worst possible expression, terror mingled with hurt and even disgust. She covered her face with her hands, not bearing to look at him.

"Are you okay? Are you on something?" Ralph was desperate, searching for some rational explanation for his wife suddenly telling him that she was a witch who could cast spells.

"No." Victoire peeked at Ralph through a gap in her fingers. "I can prove it, if you want."

"Ahh-" Ralph was frozen. If she was offering to prove it, there really was something serious going on. "Okay." He swallowed his terror. What if his beautiful wife suddenly started growing snakes in her hair and zipping around on a broomstick with a cat? But no, Victoire was walking calmly towards the umbrella stand.

She couldn't help but feel a leap of anticipation as she picked up the umbrella that held her wand. It had been so long...

"Ralph" he flinched. "I'm going to break that glass and then fix it. Don't worry, it won't hurt you."  
She opened the umbrella, and the wand inside seemed to leap into her hand.

She stepped over to the table, moved the glass in question to the center, pointed her wand at it, and thought with all her might "Confringo!" It shattered, cracks racing up and down it. It collapsed in a shower of glass. Ralph's mouth was open, but she knew he was thinking up ways she could have done it artificially. Muggles had weird minds sometimes. Instead, she pointed at the pile of glass. "Reparo" she thought firmly, and flicked her wand. The glass re-assembled itself in a split second.


End file.
